A tale of Soul and Steel
by Windteller
Summary: In the aftermath of the Conjunction of the Spheres where Ciri halted the White Frost, uninviteds guest seems to have appeared in the Northen Kingdoms. Geralt, much to his displeasure, is tasked to find them and lead them back. Follow him, the warrior Shepard, the old fox Ezio and the troublesome Nathan Drake, as they try to find their way home. Inspired by 9gag's mrlip
1. Chapter 1: The good men of Lord Olrik

A cold wind slithered over the snow, between the trees that covered the sloped mountainside, carrying with it the smell of winter, of ice and of the everlasting green fir forest.

Carefully protected from the deadly breath of the Dragon Mountains, far in the north of the Northern Kingdoms, three little brown dots in the white snow were glued to each other beneath a giant rock. Like lost birds trying to survive winter, they were sharing their heat, motionless at the exception of their arms rubbing their sore bodies.

The two men and the woman were strangely equipped for travellers, wearing the heavy coats of the wise men of the regions, but not much more. No tent, no bag of food, no dry wood, not even their own bowl and fork. What they had, however, were weapons. The woman, whose red hair were falling over her head, wore a long dagger strapped at her tight. A massive crossbow, of nearly half a meter, was leaned against the rock beside her. Her eyes were seemingly lost on the horizon, towards the mountains surrounding them. She was like a statue, frozen in time, watching over the valleys below.

The man near her was much less still, and was rubbing his arms vigorously. He had no weapons but a knife he had strapped above his heart and a bag of mysterious content. He had the thin bear of a forgetful man, but the body of those who wander the roads. He often took a small book out of his bag to read it, to keep his mind off the cold. It didn't seem to work.

The tallest man was hiding his head in a warm cowl, rubbing his hands together to ward off the pain felt by men of his age. While in remarkable shape, his silver bear and wrinkles betrayed that his past was longer than his future. Yet the thin curved sword at his side showed that he wasn't just ready to fade yet.

He was the first to notice the sound of footstep in the snow just above them, immediately followed by a figure sliding at their side. Every hands closed to their weapons in an instant, only to stop when they recognized their yellow eyed guest. Sporting a leather armour and two swords on his back, Geralt of Rivia was returning from his scouting mission.

The woman spoke first.

 _"Did you find a trail?_

 _-Yeah,_ interrupted the man with a book, _preferably one that leads to a mead. This place is awful._

 _-The horses are still were we left them. Maybe you'd better run to them before you get us all killed,_ harshly replied the witcher.

 _-Roach certainly is better company._

 _-Please,_ intervened their cowled companion with a soft voice, _this is not the time._

 _-Geralt,_ repeated the woman. _did you find the fortress?_

 _-I did, and it's like the townsfolk said. One road, no cover. The bandits are watching it too closely, we should wait for the night._

 _-My friend, I'm afraid the hostages will not have that long_ , said the old man.  
 _-And neither will us,_ completed his younger companion, _at night we'll all freeze to death._  
 _-You shutting up?_ Smirked Geralt. _Tempting._  
 _-You sunava..._

 _-Enough! Both of you!"_

The authoritative voice of the red headed women interrupted the argument before it began. She looked them in the eyes without flinching and continued.

 _"We have a mission, rescue those people. But none of us is going to make it if we lose sight of what's important. Of why we're all here. The hostages. And they can't wait one more minute. Geralt, you told us that the castle was near a cliff. Did you confirmed it?_

 _-It is. As expected the western side is unassailable. And don't even think about climbing, if the snow won't make you slip, the wind will snatch you off in an instant. However... there is probably a hidden passage. Those castles always have those._

 _-That'll have to do. Ezio?"_

The aged man lifted his head.

 _"Go with Geralt, find another entrance. Infiltrate the castle and free the hostages if you can._

 _-Shepard..._ grumbled the witcher.

 _-Don't worry Geralt,_ said Ezio with a smile _, I know how to make myself quiet. And who knows, perhaps we'll find a beautiful woman among the hostages. Or two."_

As they went off in the snow, she turned to the last man beside her.

 _"Drake, you're coming with me. I want to see that entrance for myself, and if need be we'll provide a distraction._  
 _-Am I being babysitted? Because that looks like babysitting._ Said Drake, nonetheless glad to get up.

 _-Of course not,_ she replied with a snide smile, _if we're captured, I need someone to talk them to death._

 _-Point taken..."_

She grabbed her crossbow and followed, knee deep in the snow, the trail that Geralt had left from his reconnaissance. Behind her, Drake was looking at the giant walls of stone that even the forest couldn't completely hide. Even abandoned and in ruin, the Girth fortress stood like a slumbering titan, ready to crush any who would dare disturb his sleep. The poor man locked his hand on the strap of his bag and sighted.

 _"And here we go again..."_

* * *

Geralt and Ezio carefully scrutinized the side of the mountain, out of sight from the high walls of the derelict castle. The grey stone from which they were build were the same as the one they were observing, reinforcing the illusion that the construction had spurn out of the ground, mighty, invincible. But they were too old to be fooled by such grandeur. No man, no sane man, decides to invest the lives of a generation and the resources of years of work into a place like this without a good reason in mind.  
Girth Castle, or Old Girth as some called it in the villages below, had been a retreat from the world, far from the commercial routes and away from the centre of the kingdom. While the kingdom of Povir and Koviss was renowned for the ore that made its fortune, there were very few mines in Velhad. Mountains too steep, winters too harsh and worse, monsters too free. The colossal castle had been build with the legendary wild monsters in mind, as well as the monstrosities of men.

It was a haven to protect whoever went in from one of the less hospitable climate and fauna of the Northern Kingdom. And so, it had to have some kind of secret passage in the mountains, in order for the inhabitants to flee is besieged, if only a few of them.

Ezio sighted.

 _"Any chance my friend?_

 _-I would have told you._

 _-I believe we both know finding a secret passage will not be easy, let me entertain you with an alternative."_

The witcher looked back at him. Throughout the months they spend together, Ezio had shown a tendency at being shifty, cunning, but never begrudging before a tiring task even if he could have used his age as an excuse. In fact, the man was quite stoic before them all, always keeping a friendly face, hiding a lifetime of experience. Geralt respected that, and that was why he listened to the proposition, silently encouraging Ezio to go on.

 _"I may not be good enough to climb the cliff, but I believe I'll sooner climb the walls than find a possible escape passage which, for all we know, link the fortress to the other side of the mountain._

 _-Climbing a wall in broad daylight is how stories ends._

 _-Only if they look at me. I may need your help but I know I can sneak us in that way."_

If it was up to the white wolf, Geralt would have waited for the night, when the enemies were at their weakest, before attempting any form of rescue. Perhaps he wouldn't even have took the job in the first place, he was a hunter not a mercenary. Yet circumstances had forced him into this situation and he would see it through, no matter how bad it felt it was all going to end. He nodded, and they went back, hidden by the trees.

* * *

 _"Satisfied?"_

Shepard wasn't at all, for the path was exactly as Geralt had described. From beneath a group of trees the wind had collapsed on each other, the two companions had a clear view of the road and the northern walls, where the only entrance was. The road itself was nigh a joke, more of a path amidst the dense forest leading to a castle whose walls were starting to crumble under the weight of the snow, and time. The harrow and the sturdy wooden door were intact however, and the men guarding it from behind the battlements were sharp and attentive. They even had cut the trees for 100 meters in front of the walls to prevent anyone from sneaking past their view.  
From their equipment, their position and their movements, Shepard could already see that they were no ordinary bandits or highwaymen. Too coordinate, too well assorted and well equipped. Something was wrong.

 _"This place is very well guarded, a bit too well._

 _-Isn't that the point of a fortress?_

 _-They're supposed to be bandits, kidnappers. Those people are trained."_

Drake took a good look at them, he didn't like it either.

 _"After the Nilfgard tried to invade the northern kingdoms a few years back,_ started Drake _, a lot of mercenaries lost their job and were send back to their farm or whatever they were doing. Some of them didn't like it._

 _-But why go all the way up here._

 _-I don't know. This kingdom is rich, and considering its neutrality in the conflict, their resources are still intact. But you're right, something is definitively up here."_

Despite her military attitude that was kind of annoying, the man liked Shepard better than the other two. It had been at least a year and half since he had had the occasion to speak English, and not the local language. It reminded him of the warmth of his home, a nostalgic feeling he didn't want to feel yet. He wasn't old enough to be Sully.

 _"You think Lord Olrik is a trustworthy sort?_

 _-What? No, nononono. Olrik is as bastard as bastard can be. He rigged my trial. I am innocent, if this needs to be said again._

 _-Drake, I'm letting you in my back with a knife in your hand. I think that's enough to show you my trust."_

She smiled, although it was only partly true. She trusted the man, but she had been wrong before. And Shepard didn't want Drake to know that she was ready to kill him should he tried to betray them and escape. However it wasn't a knife she felt in her shoulder, but his hand tapping frantically.

 _"What the hell are they doing?"_

Across the trees, they saw Geralt and Ezio slowly sneaking along the side of the mountains, toward the walls. As she feared, they hadn't found the secret entrance and were now trying to climb the obstacle. But with that much attention towards this side of the wall, they had no chance of succeeding. Shepard gave her crossbow to Drake.

 _"You know how to use that?_

 _-Well, yes, but... I don't see the reload mechanism._

 _-There isn't one, so make it count. Don't unless it's necessary._

 _-Wait... where are you going?_

 _-Distraction."_

She got up and went down the scouting track before joining the road. Then, she took a deep breath and went up again, ready to face the fortress.

The lone woman stood, an ant in the snow, before the mighty doors of the Girth Fortress. She had been spotted as soon as she left the cover of the forest, and felt the eyes of the sentries, grasping at their bow. Yet none stopped her, or warned her. She was now but twenty meters away from the entrance when she lifted her head to the ones who observed her.

 _"Hey! Is there a warm place for a messenger?"_

The walls stayed strangely silent to her call, the men only staring at her with intensity. She felt a shiver, but didn't budge an inch. Far to her left, Ezio and Geralt were waiting for an opening. She was going to give it to them.

 _"Aren't you going to open the doors at least? It'll be nightfall soon!_

 _-Why are you here!_ Shouted one of the guards. _There isn't anything for you here._

 _-I'm here in the name of Lord Olrik as a negotiator. He wishes to know what it'll take to have his people back."_

The guards seemed to be muttering to themselves. When suddenly, in a loud crack, The harrow lifted itself and the doors began to open. Behind it, five men in arms were standing. She resisted the urge to look on her left to see if she had given the men the opportunity they needed. Drake, however, had all the he needed.

Whoever those people were, they knew that the weakest spot of their fortress was were it stood against the side of the mountain, giving any would be climber more holding. And it was there that Ezio and Geralt were trying to go. However, two guards had just placed themselves there as soon as Shepard arrived, blocking the way. He cursed under his breath, but quickly saw an opportunity. The other side, while having little to no cover either, had no more guards on its walls.

 _"Ho... Drake. What are doing?_ He muttered to himself while unpacking his bag and strapping the crossbow on his back. _Why Drake, I'm about to do something stupid, what else did you expect?"_

The doors had just began to open when he ran towards the other side. The sky was clear, but the snow was uneven. As long as everyone on the walls was focusing on Shepard and the mountainside, he shouldn't have any problem sneaking to the wall. After that, well, do or die. The hundred meters were an eternity. Risking a few looks above the snow, he could see the red headed woman talking to the five men surrounding her. It wasn't good for her, but none was looking in his direction.  
When he got to the wall, the true fun began. His fingers took hold of any hollowed stone, of every crack, and he lifted himself. He was doing it as fast as possible, first because he was dreadfully exposed, climbing in plain daylight the walls of a manned fortress, but also because the cold had numbed his body. Burying his hands in the snow that accumulated on the walls, nearly made him lost sensation, but in a few instant and a great deal of effort, he was at the top.  
Thankfully, crates had been moved on the walk, allowing him to hide. From above, he couldn't see Geralt and Ezio anymore, only Shepard, surrounded. On the other side of the wall, however, he saw that it was deserted. They had seven men on the wall, five outside the fort and one inside, beside a wheel probably linked to the harrow.

With no way of communicating with the rest of the team, he was a bit lost. Should he tried to infiltrate the fort? Free the hostages? Or create a diversion?

He couldn't see the hostages anywhere, but he hoped he wasn't too wrong when he made his choice. Quietly getting out of cover, he grabbed the heavy crossbow and directed its thick bolt to the lone guard at the wheel below. For an instant, he took aim, prepared his shot.

 _"Hey who is..."_

The bolt snapped free of the crossbow and smashed through the chest of the guard, impaling him on the ground in a gory fashion.

"Bullseye! He exulted, just before realising that the archers were now aiming at his ass now. Ho crap!"

He jumped from the wall inside the court, narrowly dodging several projectiles who shattered against the stone. Below him, the flight of stair leading to the wall broke his fall and made him hurtling down like a rag doll. Disoriented, feeling like run over by a mob, but burning with adrenaline, he stood up almost immediately, kissing the wall in order to escape the archers. On the other side, he heard the screaming of battle, and of death, as men were being undoubtedly cut down. He rushed to the door, hoping to be of assistance.  
As he got to the entrance, it was already over. Shepard, her short sword in hand, was covered in blood, the five men lying dead at her feet as she carved her way beneath the gate. Following just behind her, Geralt, his sword drawn, fast as a panther. She threw away her bloody dagger and grabbed the crossbow from Drake's hand. By sheer strength alone, she cocked a bolt in the weapon and ran toward the centre of the courtyard.

 _"Take care of the archers! Drake, come with me, we must not let them harm the hostages!"_

Without much thinking, the young man ran after her as the white wolf engaged the fighters trying to get down the stairs. By the time, he got to the door to the inside of the castle, he could have sworn none of the bandits were left alive. It was terrifying, exhilarating, and stupidly dangerous. It had been a while since he got himself in such a situation.

* * *

Despite the sudden rush, the battle was over long before they all calmed down. Shepard was searching with the utmost urgency for any other bandits, but in vain for the group that had welcomed them obviously were the only ones here.  
Then, they separated in order to find the hostages faster. The castle had truly been abandoned for a long time. The ground was uneven, many floors had collapsed along with most of the roofs. The bandits had made their nest in the caves below, that were either the dungeon or the cellar at first, but shown clear mark of further digging. There was no way of telling how far the tunnels went, especially since some of them had collapsed too. It wasn't men that destroyed this place, but time, neglect, and the unforgiving sky of Velhad.

Geralt was the first to find the hostages, poor sods locked up deep underground, far from both the cold and the sun. But when the other gathered at his call, they all knew it was not going to be as simple as they thought.

 _"They look... Empty"_ , said Ezio both in awe and disgust.

They were all sitting on the ground, with torn clothes and bowls of food in front of them. They were at least fifteen, but none even acknowledge the presence of the company, the smell of blood on their clothes or the heat of Ezio's torches. They were slowly rocking back and force, occasionnaly turning the head away from the light, if the torch passed to close to them. They didn't speak, not even a whisper. It was as if they were already dead.

 _"They've been here a while_ , observed Geralt. _Their skin is paled, their eyes are functional in the dark. They have food, and judging by the smell of the latrine pit further down, they eat it._

 _-What do you mean? How long?_ Pressed Shepard.

 _-Weeks, perhaps months._

 _-Well... I guess it explains this._ Completed Ezio, _giving Geralt a bloodied piece of paper._

 _-Mercenaries of the White Foot,_ read Geralt out loud, _a company of three men and a woman is approaching the fortress. You are to interrogate them and then kill them. Who send them, why are they here, does they have anything to do with the curse. Bring me the head of the one called Nathan Drake. You'll be rewarded accordingly to your success..."_

He put the paper down, and said with a monochord voice.

 _"Lord Edoluk Olrik._

 _-There's no mistake?_ Asked the red headed woman.

 _-It even has his seal. This was a trap, I knew it was a mistake._

 _-It was the price for saving Drake's head._

 _-By the way, why does he wants you dead so bad?_

 _-I think I now understand why...,"_ he answered.

While all had gathered around the note, Nathan had took a closer look at the empty men and women. He had now taken a few notes on the dusty ground, forming symbols with his fingers. Ezio was taken aback.

 _"Magic?_

 _-Yeah. Well, not me,_ he added quickly, _but they all have that mark below the ear. I've seen it before_

 _-I know part of that sign,_ said Geralt, _the curve below is suppose to link the mind to the spell. It's some sort of charm._

 _-I need the books I left outside, I may be able to see what it's about._

 _-You know of magic signs?_ Asked Ezio visibly suspicious. _So the trial wasn't completely rigged after all._

 _-It's... it's complicated ok?_

 _-There isn't much more to do then,"_ concluded Shepard.

She took Ezio's torch and put it on a holder nearby.

 _"There's no way we can bring them all back to Gorneum before the night. I suggest we clean up above, bring the horses in the stables, then pass the night here. That'll give you all the time to explain your complicated story Drake._

 _-I want to hear that too,_ added Geralt. _Lords don't send witchers to their death without a damn good reason or a death wish. And I want to know more about that curse."_

Nathan suddenly felt like he was on trial all over again. But this time, maybe he'll get to say his side of the story.


	2. Chapter 2: A tale of discovery

The night had fallen over the Girth Fortress. Above on the surface, the corpses of the defeated laid to freeze in the open. Once their weapons collected and their cloths gathered it had been decided that there would be no burial, for the frozen ground was solid as the stone, and they didn't had the time. Instead, they would burn the bodies in the morning.  
For the moment only their campfire was burning, the smoke evacuating through an ingenious systems of chimney pipes, leading to the outside. They sat silently, eating the rations of the mercenaries, waiting for Drake to begin his story.

 _"So!_ He started. I _guess I should start at the beginning. Like everyone here, except for grumpy granpa, I'm not exactly from this world. Of course, I didn't understood until a few days after I appeared, naked, in the middle of this fine example of civilisation and courtesy that is Gorneum."_

* * *

 _"I... I have no idea what you're saying! Where the hell am I?"_

But all his flailing was in vain, as the mob was surrounding him, backing him against the well. They were all speaking at the same time in a language that Nathan was too disoriented to try to recognize. He had went to sleep in his warm, warm bed and had been woke up by the freezing temperature of whatever village at the far end of the world he ended up to.

Naked.

The crowed was shamelessly eyeing him, with a mixture of fear and mockery.

 _"What kind of nightmare is it, school anxiety?... Ok... Is anyone here speak english? Habla espanol?_

 _-Czy jesteś czarodziejem? Czy pijany?_

 _-W... what?"_

The woman who had spoken louder than the rest was looking at him in the eye. She was tall and strongly build. And had a medieval sword at her belt. Nathan was still ordering his thoughts when she grabbed a coat off the man beside her and threw it to him. It was stinking of smoke, cinder and fat, but it felt like heaven on his exposed body.

The crowd brutally stopped its deafening gibberish. Never a good sign. Nathan looked around, to see what had change and saw an old man in strange clothing. While the villagers were wearing warm clothes against the cold and the wind, the stranger very openly wore but a simple shirt above a green linen trouser. Yet looking at him, you'd swore it was the middle of summer. The villagers stumbled on each other not to touch him as he approached Nathan.

The latter wasn't reassured.

In utter silence, the man inspected him with the eyes of a doctor and the gentleness of a bear peeling a banana. He even smiled the all time, as if he the naked man was his long awaited Christmas present. Nathan didn't push him away though, maybe because he was still a bit disoriented, or maybe because he had noticed that some people in the crowd were grasping their weapons tightly, eyeing him with disgust and hatred.

Ha... the countryside...

Finally, the creepy guy turned around and spoke to the crowd. Whatever he said didn't seem to convince them, but they still let him drag the newly arrived out of the mob without incident. Nathan just had the time to thanked the woman who covered him before being taken into what seemed to be an inn. It was deserted, but the man, without slowing a moment, took him up the creaky stairs to one of the room.

The explorer was a bit taken aback. The room was vast and coloured. The shelves were filled with leathered books, the tables covered in parchments and ink, and the warm perfume of flower coming from the candles were just out of place with harsh climate outside. It felt … good. He then realized that the man had left him on the doorstep and was now trying to make room on the floor, putting piles of books in the corner. Nathan hesitated a little, then took a deep breath and walked in directly to the strange man.

 _"I..._ he said designated himself. _I, am Nathan. Drake. It's my name."_

The other one raised an eyebrow, then, still a book in hand, place a finger on his chest.

 _"Jestem... Isas._ Then, pointing at him. _Jestes Nathan Drake?_

 _-Yes..._ smiled Nathan. _Jestem Nathan Drake."_

* * *

 _"Turns out their language is some bizarre form of Polish. Well, Polish from where I come from. Do you have a Poland in your world?_

 _-There is,_ said Ezio with a smile. _A powerful country deep in Europe, facing numerous enemies. I went once or twice in my days, and some of my friends considered it their home._

 _-There is one too back home,_ said Shepard. _But I never learned the tongue._

 _-Well,_ continued Nathan, _I already knew the basic, so I learned pretty fast how to speak and read it. Isas turned out to be an interesting character. He was what they call a "czarodziejem", a sorcerer, although he'd call himself a Disciple of the Art. To me it was all the same, I was a wreck. I mean come on, one evening I'm in my apartment, the morning I'm in some ice world with wizards and flash mobs. But Isas was pretty patient. For the next five months, he took me under his wing. Apparently, he was thoroughly interested in my sudden appearance, almost as much as me, so I became his hobby. He was also the "court mage" but I use this word loosely. Gorneum may have a court, and a mage at its service, but as you noticed Lord Olrik isn't the most civilized person. Anyway, after six months, I was pretty much part of the background. I had a job as Isas's assistant, looking for herbs down in the mountain and making transactions with the merchants for special tools. The folk were still a bit wary of me, but I think I won them over with my personal charm."_

* * *

The crowd cheered again as the captain of the guard raged away, grasping his card in hand as if he was trying to choke it. The tavern was full, as the hunt had been very good for the time of the year, and the hunters had decided to celebrate it. Their companions accompanied them, and soon nearly everyone was in.

Plus, Nathan had returned from Pont Vanis, the summer capital of the Kingdom, with all the packages that Isas and the Lords of Gorneum had asked for. He was bringing gold, stories and a new card trick.

 _"Come on Kornel, one more. Let's up the stakes, this time, I'll guess two cards. If I win, that's three crowns for me. If I lose, all ten are yours."_

The public liked the audacity, and Kornel's gambling addiction wasn't going to let him get away with it. The big man sat down and threw three crowns on the table, and the people cheered again. He took the cards, shown two to the crowd and shuffled them all expertly. The veteran of the third Nilfgardian war had gone through hell and back during his days in service. He began playing to keep his mind away from it all and had become a fearsome card player, so much than Nathan never once beat him, even by cheating. But this card play was beyond him.

The cards back in his hands, Nathan put them down seemingly at random. Then, he started to build a little castle with what was left. The silence was absolute. The scoundrel bumped the base of his castle, letting the cards fall on his hands. And he suddenly rose them up, spouting a fountain of cards, grasping triumphantly two of them, one on each hands.

The crowd went mad and Kornel swore words he didn't even know.

The door opened, letting the cold in and making the customers growl like disturbed beasts. It was Isas, and he was visibly tired.

 _"Nathan, come with me._

 _-What? Wait I just got back._

 _-It's important. Lord Olrik is asking for us."_

For us. That was very strange, and Drake knew in his guts it wasn't good at all. Throughout the months, Olrick had tried to have Nathan expelled or interrogated as a spy. Maybe at first it was genuine concern, but it had grown to be spite, since he and Isas were battling for influence among the people of Velhad. Isas wasn't exactly a nice guy, but he never cheated or lied on his abilities. This blunt approach, bordering contempt for people less sophisticated than him, had won him the reputation of disliked but effective. On the other hand, Lord Olrik was more of a reformist, trying to get the best of the poor local resources with new ways and new trades. It had made him all the more unpopular that his methods had yet to bear any fruit.

Nathan had naturally become a pawn in their battle. The more Nathan was integrated, the better people felt about Isas, making him an obvious target. And all of Olrick's henchmen were not as easily manipulated as Kornel. Leaving the crowns to pay for a round, Nathan nervously followed Isas outside.

They walked through the city of wood and stone, protected from the evening's wind by the natural barrier of the forest not far. The whole town was near the mountainside. While only a couple of trade route went through it, it had a source of warm water coursing through it, making it the ideal place for a settlement. Well, as ideal as building a settlement near the Dragon Mountains could be.

Nathan had heard many explanations on why it was decided that Gorneum would be placed here while the territory of Velhad had a border with the Great port of Lan Exeter, who was also the winter capital. The locals said that the original founder received a blessing from a lost god at the condition he would build the centre of his power there. Outside, the merchants were more convinced by the tale of an idiot founder wanting to prove his virility. At any rate, the region wasn't rich enough to displace its capital now, and people had grew accustom to it.

Not Lord Olrik though, who had tried to gather the funds to greatly change the position of Velhad on the chessboard of politic and commerce. He and his wife were residing in the local castle, a construction half buried in the root of the mountain itself. It wasn't colossal or grandiose, it was build with a military mind and a keen knowledge of the mountain. Once inside, nothing, nor man, nor beast, nor the fiercest tempest could enter. At the deepest part were the apartments of the lords. Nathan had never go that far, only to the "court room", where he and Isas were going right now.

The room was also a dinner room, as the heavy stone table showed. But behind it, Lord Olrik had made built two humble thrones before which they were brought. Lord Olrik was sleek as a snake, well dressed in white and light blue, the colours of the coat of arm of Velhad. It was a clear contrast with his tanned skin and black short hair. He pierced the court mage with the eyes of a hawk as soon as he entered. Beside him, his wife, Lord Lithunn, the nose-less. The rumours were that she was from a foreign land and had travel to meet the one she was to marry but got lost in a storm. A patrol found her nearly frozen, and she had lost her nose, and whatever beauty she may have ever had. Nathan had found difficult to look at her at first, but now he just tried to ignore her entierly. It was easier.

 _"My lord, I am here at your behest._

 _-That I see Isas, thank you for not making me wait. I'll be short, your little pet must leave."_

The contempt in his voice was palpable. He really needed to relax.

 _"My lord, is there anything wrong? Or are you trying to force the issue._

 _-Do not believe it didn't occurred to me Isas. But apparently he decided to make my life easier. He broke the law in Pont Vanis while buying the services of clerks._

 _-What laws?_

 _-He haggled, and stole."_

Lithunn took a paper on her side and began to read. It was the list of expenditure detailing the amount that was trusted to Nathan for the different good and services he was to purchased. The paper clearly showed that he had haggled down the prices of several service below the standard fee. As the declaration went on, the sorcerer face began to show dismay.

 _"Come on!_ Drake protested. _I made you win money. What's wrong with that?_

 _-What's wrong,_ said Lithunn, _is that in haggling in our name, you sent the message that we didn't consider ourself fit to pay the same price as the other lords, you tarnished our reputation. It is not the kind of humiliation a kingdom founded on commerce and riches takes lightly._

 _-Ok, maybe, but I didn't steal anything._

 _-By negotiating a price below, you stole from the kingdom and you forced us to pay back, with an apology."_

Drake wasn't believing his ears, but the court wizard was clearly taking it seriously. He intervened with the most honeyed voice he could muster.

 _"I am profoundly sorry for this mistake. I shall take responsibility and apologize myself to the royal administration. But surely there is no need to punish the messenger whose only fault was to try to help you the best he could._

 _-There is no need for begging,_ answered Lithunn with a harsh tone. _The fate has been decided._

 _-Nathan Drake, you are hereby exiled for a period of a year from Velhad under penalty of death. However, since you were sincere in your action, there'll be no fine nor prison._

 _-How generous..._

 _-Do not push my patience..."_ warned the lord.

The stranger in this world was surprised and a bit unsure of what to do. He had scouted the regions around, as a precaution should he ever decides to leave the frozen place. But Isas had always been his best chance to ever return home, and while he had learn that the kingdom was far more welcoming of mages and sorceresses than the others of northern kingdoms, they weren't exactly running the streets helping the helpless either.

 _"In that case I'm going too."_

The sudden declaration left the assistance speechless.

 _"W... Isas, you can't just leave. You're court mage._

 _-And as such, I use my prerogative and leave your service. My debt has been paid in full._

 _-Wait,_ pleaded Lord Olrik, strangely moved. _You can't just leave for this... stranger._

 _-My liege,_ said calmly the sorcerer. _I enjoyed our rivalry very much, and I'll miss dearly the warmth of a bed and the assurance of your protection. A feeling, I'm sure, I'll find ways to make Drake here pay for. Nonetheless, no matter what you think, there are more important things than where your ass sit in this world. Or what you do with it"_

And he went away, Nathan running after him soon after, leaving the nobles behind.

* * *

 _"The sorcerer left his comfort for you,_ asked Ezio raising an eyebrow. _I am sceptical. People of power do not simply abandon it like that_

 _-Yeah, well, it wasn't an act of pure goodness. Living on the road made him harder and far less pleasant than he was before. It was clear that my apparition was in his eyes the event of the century. He kept working on it, day and night, and we travelled to many places he thought were important. For a year, we travelled the northern kingdoms, exploring, researching. I learned at his side how magic worked, in theory, and we investigated a lot of ruins and abandoned villages. A several point, he was sure a similar event as my apparition had taken place, but there was no lead. Maybe we even visited where you appeared._

 _-And how,_ monotoned Geralt, _is that getting us any closer to what this curse is, and why your lord tried to have us killed?_

 _-I'm getting to it. Long story short, Isas died. We had been cornered by drowners on a raft and I was the only one to make it to the bank. I heard him cast a spell, there was some big explosion, and then both him and the raft were on fire. Since a year had nearly passed, I decided to come back to Gorneum. Isas had once told me he hid many books near the walls and I thought I'd need them in order to continue the research. But as soon as I crossed the gates, I got... well... snatched.  
_

* * *

The screams of pain echoed through the stone as the torturer pierced Eirir's foot in front of Nathan. The elf was a smith in a village a bit west from the capital, and was now tormented as punishment for his crimes. Bound, kneeled and forced to watch, the returning adventurer was facing the pain inflicted to the elf with as much stoicism as his inner rage was allowing him to have.

 _"Our young smith stole from his employer and tried to run away. But before that, he hid his treasure. We'll soon know where._ Said Olrik

 _-You're sick!_

 _-I do what I must."_

Nathan had no idea why he had been dragged to the dungeon. He knew his exile had been over for several weeks and even asked around to make sure. Nonetheless, Kornel fell upon him like a hammer, pretending he was violating the terms of his exile, and illegal sorcery. The lord of the place was waiting for him in front of the barred cell where a masked man was inflicting suffering with clinical precision. Olrik didn't seems to enjoy the show, but it added a hint of truth to the threats he then made on the returned exiled.

 _"Tell me where Isas is._

 _-He's dead!_

 _-I don't believe you._

 _-For fuck sake believe me, he's dead! That's why I came back, I needed some books he left behind!"_

Olrik looked at Nathan in the eyes, as if he was trying to drill through the lies. Eirir screamed several time before he broke the gaze.

 _"What did he do to the village?_

 _-What do you mean what did he do? He left, we left around a year ago._

 _-I know Isas did something! And I know that you would have noticed!"_

He seemed like possessed, furious. For the first time, Nathan feared for his life.

 _"Tell me!_

 _-I don't know ok? I don't think he did anything._

 _-If you tell me, if you lift the curse, I'll just exile you. But if you dare lie to me..._

 _-What... what... wait wait wait. I... I... Listen... I... If you just explained to me..."_

But the explorer was stumbling on his words. Eirir had passed out, and now the torturer was cleaning his wounds. For a moment, he himself could feel the sharp knife cutting away the peeled flesh off his feet. Nathan couldn't keep his eyes off him, couldn't think of anything. So he took refuge in audacity.

 _"I'll help you._

 _-I already know that._

 _-I swear to you, I'll help you. I know, I mean I think I know what he did. I just... I'll need his books if you want it to work it out._

 _-You are going to undo the damage he caused?_ He ask with insistence.

 _-I swear to you, I'm going to make this problem just... go away."_

It was pure bluff. He had no idea what Isas did, in fact he was pretty sure Isas did nothing. His companion was bitter to leave the city, but he wasn't at all spiteful against it. Every time he felt the ground too hard, the cheese too old or the rain too wet, he took it out on Nathan. Not once had he mentioned his old town.

But if Olrik wanted results, he was going to get it. That, and the explorer would try to sneak away as soon as he could, even if the lord wouldn't let that be easy. He was brought to a lone cell as a guardsman was to recover the books in the hidden spot Nathan indicated. He had travelled around the northern kingdom for a whole year, explored ruins, talked to mysterious figures, accomplished strange rituals, and now he was in a little prison of stone where no one could hear him. He took a moment to remember all the times he had been in such a situation.

None of them were pleasant. At least they didn't have any shower here.

The day and night passed, or so he was told. He was like isolated in his black hole in the mountain. The only source of light was a candle only lit because he had to read. In this timeless The noon food came, and as he feared, the books he had were of no use to him. They were in perfect condition but with no way of knowing what exactly happened because he didn't know where to look. He was still lamenting the absence of Sully when his meal came with a bunch of visitors, Olrik among them.

He seemed furious, but tightly contained, as he showed the way of the three visitors.

 _"What do you want with him?_

 _-Witcher business,_ answered one of the visitor with a deep gravely voice.

 _-Well I hope you need him bad. You know my conditions._

 _-Do not worry Lord Olrik,_ replied another with an... Italian accent? _We will keep our end of the bargain. But is it necessary for him to accompany us?"_

The four shapes in the dark stopped in front of his cage. Even in obscurity, Nathan recognized the witcher instantly as the White Wolf, Geralt of Rivia, one of the few witchers in the northern kingdoms. The others were unknown to him, they both looked at him with an interest he found very uncomfortable.

 _"Yeah... hu... I'm not for sale._

 _-You're free, Nathan... Those strangers have accepted to help me with a bandit problem against your freedom. You're in their custody now._

 _-Wait, but I..._

 _-It's decided."_

And he unlocked the door. Nathan slowly got up. He heard "Witcher's business", and he didn't like it at all. The woman had a little smile and threw him the heavy coat that had been confiscated to him when he had been made prisoner. She was intimidating, but strangely warm and welcoming.

 _"Don't worry little guy, she said, we have more in common than you can guess."_

* * *

 _"The rest, well, you know. That I wasn't the only one out of place here, that you were trying to go home too. And of course the so-called hostages._

 _-So,_ summarized Geralt, _Olrik think Isas cursed them, and that you were around when it happened. And when we came for you, he assumed we were in it too._

 _-This Olrik seems to care for his people,_ continued Ezio, gazing upon Nathan like an inquisitor. _And you say Isas didn't do it?_

 _-Yeah well, I'm not a hundred percent sure, but I don't see why he would. Besides, I know this, I've studied it._

 _-So you know what this curse is?"_

Nathan took a book among the others and opened it, looking for a specific page. In the light of the fire, he showed them several symbols that closely resembled the sign the poor empty men had beneath the ear.

 _"It's old magic. I mean, it's not used anymore, it's actually very hard to pull off and I don't think Isas was good enough for this trick._

 _-It's not a trick_ , insisted Ezio, _people's lives are at stake!_

 _-Yeah... well... look. This is a slave glyph."_

Without a word, Geralt gently took the book and plunged in it. Drake continued.

 _"Charming someone is pretty easy, but to dominate him completely, that requires a lot of subtlety and power. The idea was to engrave the commands directly into the mind of the victim. He would then become his slave, receiving any command as his own will. A direct door to his conscience._

 _-... Horrifying,_ muttered the old assassin.

 _-The problem is that it doesn't work. Leaving the door open is making the victim go mad within days. Soon, he has no will of his own._

 _-So,_ abruptly Shepard, _is it too late?_

 _-Even if it wasn't... I wouldn't know how to break it. What makes me say that Isas couldn't have done it is that it requires an already powerful sorcerer and direct contact with a victim to enchant one person. But... that many? I don't know anyone who possess such amount of power."_

The crackling of the firewood filled the silence. Not far from them, the poor victims were eating, answering to their basic need, probably unaware that they were too many for a cage this small. They could have been slowly freezing to death, they wouldn't complain either. The company understood that Olrik had send the cursed in an old fort and asked mercenaries to guard them. He was desperate to find a cure, desperate enough to try and interrogate a witcher. Geralt was still thinking, deeply concentrated.

 _"We need to go back to Gorneum,_ he said suddenly.

 _-What? Why?_ Protested Nathan. _We should run, there's no way to help those people and Olrik will have our head now._

 _-We have to gather every info we can on this curse. I don't think it's chance it just happened to appear where Nathan was. It actually is our best lead to return you in your respective world."_


End file.
